


I got a number on me

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-19
Updated: 2009-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_dSuZA39g4"><i>You Are A Runner And I Am My Father's Son</i></a> by Wolf Parade.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. I got a number on me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [_You Are A Runner And I Am My Father's Son_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_dSuZA39g4) by Wolf Parade.

Andie complained bitterly the whole way to the strip joint.

" _Objectification_ ," she declared. "Why the fuck do people need to get their kicks from watching other people fucking dance on a stage? Why do people have to--"

"Andie," Petra said with a toothy smile and little else, snapping on the indicator and making a turn that was as illegal as it was sudden; she blithely ignored the blaring horns of other cars. "I'm taking Trish for a rite of passage. It's her birthday and I'll be _damned_ if I let you preach her out of it."

Trish yanked her hat lower down, brushing wisps of hair from her pale forehead. The streetlights painted it bronze in regular, fitful stripes. "No, it's. It's cool, we could just go to IHOP tomorrow, get some pancakes, it's no big deal. Just a birthday."

Petra gave her a fierce glare. "Patricia? Sweetie? This is my gift to you, don't turn it down. That hurts me deep inside, where I keep my sensitive feelings."

"Really deep," Jo drawled lazily from the very back, tucked against Andie's kick drum. Chris and Tyler were snoring loudly, almost drowning her voice. "Like, the core of the earth deep. Deep like that."

"A new guitar is a gift," Andie stated, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn't wearing much, one of her ubiquitous plain white tank-tops (she had really good ink, no sense in hiding the sleeves) and a loose pair of basketball shorts she had walked out on her last boyfriend with; they were long enough to pass her knees. She didn't feel too chilly, though; she ran as hot as Petra ran cold. "Maybe a book. But going to get groin in your face? What a waste of time."

"You get groin in your face all the time," Jo said helpfully. "Remember that dude in Little Rock? Seriously, I don't know how you do it."

"Jo," Andie snapped as Petra chortled and Trish giggled a little self-consciously. "I can do it because I don't give a fuck. But I don't pay for that shit. Which is my _point_ , you can't encourage the perpetuation of--"

"Here we are!" Petra bellowed and kind of slalomed into a large parking lot. There was a series of crashes and muffled cries as Jo rolled into the rest of Andie's kit. Their techs snapped awake and reached over to help. "Safe and sound! With no help from you, Andrea Hurley. I mean, you fucking live right down the road, and you don't even know one strip-joint?"

"I didn't say I didn't know any," Andie replied coldly. "I said I wasn't going to help you find one. Oh god. You picked the Electric Eel."

"Come on, I want the finest for my very best friend. The finest!" Petra leaped out after this heart-felt declaration and raced around the still-idling van; Andie breathed out in annoyance and reached over the seat to turn the heavy bunch of keys, yanking them out and giving them to Trish.

Trish's fingers curled over hers and her face turned to Andie's, eyes wide and a little watery from having the wind blown in her eyes; the front-passenger window had been giving problems to roll up again. Andie frowned.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Andie told her sternly. "It's all about what you want."

Trish parted her mouth to say something, but her door popped open and Petra was dragging her bodily towards the long, low building. Andie gazed up at the flashing lights and sighed. For a few agonizing hours some months ago, she'd worked right across the road, in some dreary factory where older women had given her tattooed arms long judgmental gazes. Andie had nearly asked them to give her the fucking scarlet letter, get it out of their system.

"Andie?" Trish called from where they were standing at the entrance, drawing her out of her memories. The look on Trish's face was one of sheer terror, and Andie had adored her like the baby sister she never had, from the moment they met. No way was she going to leave a friend hanging like that, especially whilst they were in the clutches of Petra Wentz.

"You guys are crazy," Jo informed them as Andie clambered over the top of the front seat and slid down, scrambling out of the vehicle after Petra and Trish. "I mean, sleep is totally more fun." Still, she laboured her way out as well, leaving the guys with a good-natured, "Don't wait up!"

"Fuck off," Chris yelled back and Jo laughed merrily.

The guy at the door gave Andie's bare arms an interested glance and then nodded them all in. "Tonight is ladies' night," he told them with a wide grin, the gap in his front teeth much wider than the one Andie had. "As they all are."

"Whatever," Andie muttered under her breath and Trish laughed nervously beside her as they made their way down a narrow and uncomfortably damp corridor, emerging into a large room, the music throbbing in time with the movement of the lights. The place was actually well-lit than Andie remembered and a whole lot less smoke. Maybe they got new management, she concluded as Petra darted off to one side.

Andie took Trish's sweaty hand in one of hers, Jo's in the other, dragging them off to a table that was as far away from the U-shaped main stage as they could get. Most of the crowd was leaning against it, shouting wildly at the nearly-nude bodies writhing slickly on the stage; some were off the stage and near some of the tables set close. Andie glared all around, waving down one of the scantily clad wait-staff.

"Mountain Dew," she said and the waiter raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. Andie raised one back, certain that while hers wasn't as sculpted, it had a whole lot more _fuck-you_ in it. "Make that three."

The guy looked carefully at Patricia. "Do we have to card you, miss?" he asked in a gently mocking voice. Trish ducked her head and Andie bristled on her behalf.

"You can card _me_ , son," Jo said sweetly. "I am not yet of age!"

"Dude, go get the fucking Dew," Andie snapped. "She's not going to get drunk on _soda_."

The waiter sniffed at Andie and sailed off. As he went towards the bar, Andie's gaze slid past him and her breath stopped in the back of her throat. Petra was kneeling on a stool, her short skirt showing off at least a mile of leg, and she was talking to Matt Mixon.

Ah shit, this was what she had been dreading. Matt fucking _Mixon_ , still behind the bar. And wow, with his shirt off. Huh.

Andie turned her head away quickly as Petra pointed in their direction. Shit. She thought Matt had moved on from the Electric Eel; hadn't he said something about college? What the _fuck_ , and why was he parading shirtless behind the bar? She had always told him that he had a pudgy little belly for a guy his height, he shouldn't be torturing people with the sight of that.

"They're coming over here," Trish whispered to her, sounding like a soldier crouching in the trenches. "Petra and some guy."

"Tall?"

"Yeah," Jo informed her, twirling one of her wild curls over one finger and gazing fixedly behind Andie. "Oh yeah, I like 'em tall, dark and hot-damn. Hot- _damn_."

"Stupid tattoos?"

"Um. I… I don't think they're stupid?" Patricia squinted. "I can't really see them that well anyway, I think my glasses are--"

"Andie Hurley, what a surprise," Matt rumbled right into her ear and Andie flailed a little, nearly falling off her seat. Matt slid into the seat opposite and placed three frosty glasses with ice in front of them, as Petra bounced into the last remaining chair, slamming down the bottles of Mountain Dew. He had put on a white t-shirt that was too tight for him, in Andie's humble opinion. She glared and he smiled at her widely, even though it seemed a little cool at the edges. She really hated when he smiled at her in any case, she got all flustered and shit. Grabbing one of the bottles, she focused on opening it and pouring quickly.

"You _know_ her?" Petra bellowed. Andie grimaced. "Andrea Hurley! Your mother know that you used to hang with strippers?"

"What? He's not a--" Andie gave him a long disbelieving stare. "You're not a stripper."

Jo said, "I told you she got groin in her face like all the time," and Andie dealt her a vicious kick under the table. " _Owww_. Andie!"

Matt's gaze was heavy and considering on Andie's face; he shrugged after a long moment. "I am now. Tending bar and stripping, the great American dream." Then, he shifted a little and looked at Patricia, his eyes becoming warm again. "Hey, you must be Patricia? The birthday girl?"

"Yeah, that's me," Patricia laughed apprehensively and grabbed the edges of her hair, fluffing and smoothing them down in her habitual nervous gesture. She launched into her patented Patricia M. Stumph babble: "You don't have to take off your clothes for me. I mean, I know it's your _job_ and everything and do you work by commission or something like that? Because if you do then maybe you might have to, like, do your duty, earn your money, things like that but you _totally_ don't have to if you don't want to." Patricia was so flushed, Andie could practically feel her skin sending off waves of heat. She sipped her drink and scowled at it, as if it had told her something deeply insulting about her mother.

Matt laughed loudly, but there was nothing derisive in the sound at all. "Hey, no," he teased, "Apart from it being my job and all, it'll be my pleasure to remove my clothing for you, honest. It'd be like the best thing ever today, you know?"

"And he's hot," Petra informed them as if Matt wasn't sitting _right there_. "I got you the hottest one I could find, Patsy. Because I love you."

"Please don't call me Patsy, _Pet_ ," Patricia snapped, sounding more like her normal sharp self for a moment before she glanced at Matt again and reverted to the deep blushing once more. "Alright. Um…"

"We have private rooms," Matt told her and put his hand on the table, palm up. "No crowd and less noise. It'll be cool, trust me. How about that? You'd prefer that?" It was fucking endearing, the way he was trying to make Trish comfortable before bumping his penis in her face, Andie thought sourly.

"Hey, do you think you can take your clothes off for me, too?" Jo asked quickly. Petra turned and gave her a _look_. "What. What? Who knows if we're gonna be here when my birthday comes around? I want to see nakedness too, I deserve to see some nudity." She nodded over at Matt, her eyes twinkling. " _His_ nudity."

Matt laughed fit to split, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes; Andie went through a moment of discomfiture when she actually disliked Jo for making him laugh so easily. That was fucked up. She loved Jo, without measure. Jo made _everyone_ laugh like that, it was her greatest gift. No need to get bent out of shape about it. Besides, Matt wasn't anything to her. There was a time when he _might_ have been, and he had thought so as well, but Andie had firmly pushed him away, because he just… to be honest, he might have been too awesomely perfect for her. It was messed-up logic, but it was what she had to work with at the time. They would have spent months being giddy together and then one day (this was a guarantee) he'd be smiling at some girl and Andie would get pissed and try to take his head off. That's just the way she was; she became severely irrational when it came to such relationships, giving Petra a serious run for the money; it was shocking to people who saw her as being a fairly quiet woman. As a matter of fact, Petra had told her that her last break-up was Jerry Springer material.

She… she just _really_ liked him with his head attached. She didn't want to be the one to fuck up everything that might have been amazing. Messed-up logic, indeed.

Matt now dashed tears of mirth from his face. "Well, I don't get full Monty up in here but you know what? Yeah, I'll put on a private show for four. Birthday girl here gets the special, though." He wriggled his fingers invitingly and without further hesitation, Patricia slipped her smaller hand into his, smiling shyly; Matt just beamed at her. "Awesome. Let's go."

He got up and ambled across the crowded room, still holding Patricia's hand and moving slow enough so that she had no problems keeping up with her shorter stride. Petra narrowed her eyes at Andie, but thankfully said nothing.

"Oh man, nudity!" Jo crowed as they rose as well and followed, going into another corridor, this one far better than the entry-way, a series of dark-blue doors leading off it. "I love nudity. Not yours, Petra, I've seen enough of _that_."

"You should be glad that you've seen my fine ass naked," Petra shot back. "Oh, this is nice," she observed with a delighted gleam in her large brown eyes, peering around the surprisingly lush room. The carpet was thick and there were plush couches set around. Matt led Tricia over to a loveseat, settling her in before he went over a CD player located on a shelf. Jo, Petra and Andie took over a longer sofa set perpendicular to Tricia's loveseat; Petra was close enough to reach over and pinch her hand quickly. Patricia flapped a hand at her, annoyed and flustered, but Petra just grinned happily.

"Any James Brown?" Patricia called, tugging at the ends of her hair again and chuckling nervously.

Matt threw a sweet grin over his shoulder, his fingers tapping against the surface of the shelf as a dragging drum-line filled the air. "No, sorry. But you're gonna _love_ this."

*

Andie wasn't sure what she had been expecting; maybe something slightly lame and goofy, they'd have a little fun, a lot of laughing from Jo's neck of the woods, and that'd be it. But _this_. Shit, this. Was.

This was getting her wet, pure and simple. She squirmed while Jo and Petra squealed and laughed at Matt moving around them. He was a little goofy, that was just how Matt was, but she had to admit he knew how to move. He slinked his way to Trish's seat, kneeling down in front of her and sliding his big hands up the side of the couch, beside her legs, not touching her at all, but so _so_ close; his hands travelled up past her thighs and he leaned forward, whispering something into Tricia's ear. She nodded quickly, grinning and blushing, but she reached out and tugged at the end of his shirt, pulling it up. He raised his arms, letting her drag it over his head.

"Take it off!" Petra shrieked and kicked out her legs in sheer glee. Jo was leaning against Petra's side, hollering as well.

Matt took the shirt out of Patricia's hand and tossed it away, getting to his feet. Placing his hands behind his head, he rocked his crotch towards her, making slow grinding movements. Trish yelled and covered her face with her hands, but she was peeking through the spaces of her fingers, eyes wide.

Matt turned around, undoing the buttons on his jeans and looking right at Andie as he slid them slowly down. She looked away, licking her lips and crossing her legs. He had toned up; not a lot of bulk, just leaner than he had been before. Great; this was pretty much unbearable.

By the time she built up enough bravery to glance back in that direction, Matt was facing Patricia again, writhing in a way that should have looked stupid for someone so tall, but kind of worked. He wasn't wearing any thong underneath, like any self-respecting stripper would, but a scanty blue Speedo, rocking his hips with all the suggestiveness he apparently could muster. Patricia was almost lying down on the loveseat by now, but she appeared less apt to die of embarrassment and more like she was having fun. She was laughing, her eyes bright, and a hand over her mouth.

Matt reached down and pulled her back upright, then clambered into the loveseat with her, kneeling over her and braced his arms on either side of her head. As the song wound down, he continued to gyrate and Andie said urgently, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," before leaping up and rushing out.

She found a small bathroom a few doors down, possessing only two toilet stalls. She barged into one and almost had a hand down her shorts when the door opened and Jo's voice called out in concern: "Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Andie strangled out, feeling her nipples crinkle against the material of her tank-top. She clenched her eyes shut. "Seriously. Just fine."

"Okay. We're going to head back out to the bar, Petra says she needs to get her dance with the birthday girl. You know what _that_ means."

Yes, yes, Andie knew what that meant. Petra was going to take every opportunity to grope Trish, who would either push her away with an irritated frown or give a darkly amused smile, sultry in a way that Andie was sure Patricia was unaware of. If Petra got the latter Trish, the _sensual_ Trish, there'd be fireworks on the dance floor for sure.

But seriously, that was so far down on her list of concerns right now. She listened with half an ear as Jo bustled back out, and she was panting as she began to slip a finger inside herself. She didn't notice the outer door open again, but she heard very clearly when Matt said in a low voice, "Let me in, Andie," from outside the door of the stall she was in.

Everything in Andie seemed to freeze and she simply stood there for a moment, back against the sturdy metal wall. Her left hand rose slowly, dreamlike, and she watched it as if it belonged to someone else, the nails of it black from when Petra had managed to get some polish on them while she was sleeping one night.

She snapped the deadbolt back and pushed the door open. Matt slid in and didn't say a word; he just crowded right up against her, kissing her hard, just the way she liked it, his hands tight on her upper arms, covering the ink with his big dark hands. He had put his jeans back on, but the hard shape of his cock pressed warm against her thigh. She pressed back, moaning.

She peeled one of his hands away and pushed it unceremoniously into her shorts, whining in the back of her throat as he stroked and parted the lips of her cunt with a kind of infuriating delicacy. His other hand moved under her shirt, thumb brushing roughly over one eager nipple as she wound her arms around his neck, making little hungry noises every time his tongue licked against hers.

"Condom, _condom_ ," Andie chanted breathlessly when he slid his fingers out of her to paw at her shorts, yanking them down partway. He stopped for a moment, looking down at her with a cryptic smile. She punched him in the chest and pushed him back a little, doing the rest of the work on her shorts and panties, placing them on the tank of the toilet very carefully before turning back to shove her own hand down the open fly of his jeans, curling her hand over the shape of his dick.

Matt handed her a condom wordlessly, something tense in the corners of his eyes. She ignored this expression, fighting to fold back the worn material of his jeans and get the ridiculous Speedo down as far as she could, tearing the packaging open and rolling the condom down his erection; his cock twitched against her hands as she did that and her mouth practically watered.

He grabbed her around her waist and lifted her, as easy as anything; she braced her back against the wall and kissed him wildly, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding on tight as his dick, thick and hot, slid up into her. Andie keened as his hips moved, extremely grateful for her slight frame, as she always was when he fucked her up against a wall.

He _remembered_ that Andie always loved this, that she loved when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath tickling, and he was doing it right now, grunting as he snapped his hips against her in time with the faint beat of the music coming from the open area, sharp and dragging hot and perfect.

Her thighs were slipping against his sweaty skin and she struggled to keep them locked tight around him, but there were _waves_ building up inside her, that had probably started from when she'd _seen_ him, probably from then, damn it, and she was yelling out, "Fuck, Mixon, fuck, _fuck_ ," and clawing her short nails down his shoulders and back, yanking at his hair and writhing helplessly, her body trying to bow back as she shuddered against the onslaught. Matt hitched at her suddenly boneless legs, and she hung on, moaning weakly as his fingers tightened and he lost that ever-quickening but steady pace he'd set, his face contorting as his hips stuttered.

He staggered a little, and the both of them nearly fell to the ground before he managed to spin around and sit heavily on the closed seat of the toilet, his arms tight around Andie as she straddled him, his cock softening inside her. She grimaced, reaching back as he slipped out, making sure to grab onto the condom. His hands were over hers in a moment, helping even though his forehead was pressed against her shoulder and he wasn't seeing a thing.

"Just sit still for a minute," he told her in exasperation when Andie wriggled a little; she heard him tying the condom and drop in it on the ground before wrapping his arms around her again, the both of them still breathing deeply. "Jeez, Andie, come on."

This was bad. She wanted to run her hands over his cheeks and through his choppy black hair, kiss his jaw and talk with him about shit until they were ready to do it all over again, maybe in a bed that was too small for them both. She tried to push down the circle of his hands from where they were, but they weren’t going anywhere.

"Just," Matt said, his voice hoarse. "Just. Gimme a fucking _minute_."

"I can't," Andie said in a very small voice, feeling very unlike herself. I can't, she thought, because if I give you _one_ minute, I'll give you all of them.

He released her suddenly, not looking at her as she got up stiffly; her thighs were informing her just how much they despised her right about now, and she reached past him to get her shorts and panties, pulling them on slowly, carefully. She couldn't resist when he stood and reached for her again, touching her chin with his long fingers, fingers that had been inside her not too long again, tipping her face up so that he could kiss her.

"Come in for _your_ birthday," he said against her mouth. "I'll clear the whole house for you, just you and me."

Andie blinked up at him. There was that same tautness at the corners of his eyes, but he was smiling down at her and she just wanted everything so _bad_.

"You can't do that," was all she said, but she kissed him back, slow and honest. She kissed him again, just to be sure.

"Yeah, I can," Matt told her. "I want to. Come back and see."

*

Jo was on driving duty, burbling happily about the Electric Eel as Petra snuggled up against a dozing Patricia, sniffing her hair and not even hiding that she was doing it. Andie was in the back, taking her turn with the instruments as she considered the passing lights and the impeding dawn. Tyler had already told them that the next strip-joint stop was for the guys, and Andie had not even said anything, she was so deeply buried in her thoughts.

"But we're totally going back," Petra declared. "I swear, we should. Right, Andie?"

Andie shook herself and bit her lip. "Yeah," she finally said with a smile that no one else could see. "For my birthday."

"Now that is what we call objectification," Jo said and laughed uproariously, not stopping even when Andie threw a shoe at her head.

_fin_


	2. build a house inside of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for complications_g's (@LJ) request.

Andie woke up to the sunlight shining right in her eyes. That was so fucking wrong. Her room didn't even face east, so what the...

The previous night came roaring back, every moan and every position they'd experimented with; she turned her head slowly. Matt was fast asleep beside her, the sheet dragged up and clutched closely to his shoulders even as it left her breasts bare. His hair was in a mess and his lashes were dark smudges at the top of his cheeks.

She exhaled soundlessly, and wondered where her clothes were; raising her head a little, she saw her panties draped over the lamp-shade. Yeah, they'd been in a bit of a hurry last night. She'd just been back from a short tour and she had some interview thing with the band later today, so they hadn't had enough time. She'd just gone to the club, nursing a seltzer until his shift finished and he dragged her back to his place.

Andie slid a hand down between her legs, parting the lips of her cunt with her fingers. She felt as if she could feel every ridge of his cock, imprinted inside her, dragging slowly back and forth. With her fingers rubbing languorous circles, she fell back into a deeply contented doze.

*

...she arched into his mouth and blinked awake. Fuck, Matt was gone from her side and was now between her legs under the covers, his tongue hot against the crease of her thigh and leg. "Oh," she breathed and placed one hand atop his head, moving her hips in slow circles as he moved closer to her wet slit. He pressed her legs wider apart, palms dry and hot against the skin of her inner thigh and got into it again, sending vibrations all the way through her as he hummed.

"Oh shit, fuck," she mumbled as she felt his tongue flick against her clit. "Ooooh, no, don't... that's too much," she whined when he suckled experimentally on it. "Don't."

He stopped _that_ , but she groaned as a long finger twisted up inside her, stroking carefully. Andie went up on her elbows, grinding up into his face, her hair starting to stick to her cheek.

"Come up here," she begged, and flailed a hand across to the night-table, knocking off nearly all the damned condoms but managing to snag one, thank _fuck_. "Get up here, come on."

Her hands were shaking when he knelt up and she rolled it onto his cock; then she flung her arms around his neck and dragged him back down; she panted against his mouth as the thick head of his cock curved up into her, hot and heavy.

"Ok," he said in a very strained voice as she writhed desperately underneath him. He braced his arms on either side of her head, pressed his forehead to her collarbone. " _You_ stop that, don't. Fuck."

" _Yes_." Andie grasped his shoulders tightly, still moving her hips in wide arcs as he lifted his head again, half-lidded gaze fixed on her face as he slid in and out. "Like that?"

"Fuck no, I hate it," he choked out, fucking her in long strokes. "Can't you tell?"

Andie grinned up at him and fucked him back, her whole body undulating, breasts rocking back and forth until he covered one and rolled the puckered nipped between thumb and finger. She felt her skin begin to heat up even more, and she reached between them with one hand, encircling her fingers briefly around his cock where it burrowed slickly inside her cunt.

She flicked those same fingers against her clit and shuddered. So close.

"Harder," she gasped and Matt made a sound that could be roughly translated to _what the fuck, how MUCH harder can I go, woman?!_ , but she knew he loved a challenge.

She always came like a wild thing, arms alternating between flailing around and trying to grapple a million places on Matt's body at the same time. His face was contorted over hers as she reared underneath him, her mouth open, thin whining moans the only sounds she could make.

He grunted as she flopped back onto the bed, grabbing onto her legs and shoved inside her deeply, going rigid for a moment then bucked once, twice, groaning out "fuck," between clenched teeth.

He collapsed half-on, half off her and as she blew his hair out of her face, feeling his cock twitch and soften inside her (she'd bug him about the condom in about ten seconds), she thought, _hey, maybe I can live with the fucking sun in my eye after all_.

_fin_


End file.
